


Never Ever

by Dana



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, pseudo-fluffy post-whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 19:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5428646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dana/pseuds/Dana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gene wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Ever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ferntree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ferntree/gifts).



> Birthday fic for **ferntree**! :D ♥ Beta by **talkingtothesky**.

Gene wakes to the sight of Sam, sat slumped in the bedside chair. His DI's sleeping soundly, mouth gone slack, skin ghastly pale in the room's dingy light. Gene tries shifting himself on his pillows, but that was a bad idea – he knew it before he started it, but he still had to try. He huffs and flops back down, the whole of his chest radiating pain.

He's made it. He's still alive. Some bastard shot him, but he's got to the other side of it and _he's still alive_.

Gene's attention slips back onto Sam. It's obvious the daft bastard's been running himself ragged, taking care of Gene's responsibilities on top of his own. So he's getting a bit of kip in when he's able to, Gene would do the same thing – he's been sleeping too much of late anyhow, not that he had much choice in the matter. 

Only he's thirsty now, and the IV line's like a chain tying him down. There's a cup of water just out of his reach, and Gene almost hates himself for needing to wake Sam.

Almost.

'Gladys.' Gene's voice croaks. 'Oi – _wake up_.' Forcing himself to speak up in that manner causes his throat to go dry, cock-a-bloody-hoop – though, in a perfectly fitting twist of irony, the coughing fit that follows wakes Sam up, and just like a charm.

Sam startles, eyes gone wide. 'Guv.' He blinks, _moves_ , pushing himself up quickly. He almost knocks the chair over as he stands, is at Gene's side in two steady steps. Gene's coughing, but he's also struggling to sit up. Sam helps him with that, needing no guidance. He doesn't stop until Gene's right side up, has even propped up some of the pillows to help things along. His hand's soothing up and down Gene's back, warm, steady, slow. The coughing fit is tearing at Gene's already battered lungs, and Sam's hand on his back... well, it does feel good.

He bats Sam off anyhow, and Sam stumbles back, openly confused. 'Gene – '

Gene scowls at the bedside table, in particular the cup of water sat at one far corner. Sam stares at him, blank yet responsive, because he suddenly _gets_ what Gene's hinting at as he coughs some more and makes a stabbing gesture at the little paper cup.

The cup's in Sam's hand now, and Sam's hovering by his side, just waiting to give it over. 'Y'need any more help...?'

Gene scowls at him, still coughing. Sam frowns, and as the endless fit reaches its _end_ , passing through him, Gene reaches out to take the cup of water. The paper's cool and smooth against his dry, cracked lips, the water even cooler as it starts to trickle its way down. Gene closes his eyes and just tries to enjoy the moment – that he can still even take a drink of water. That he's even alive.

'Better now?'

Gene nods, holds the cup out. 'Could use some more.' No more croaking, but the water's not quite done its job of quenching his thirst. Maybe it never will – but he's pulled through it so far. Survived a bullet that would have killed lesser men. Made it out of surgery, no walk in the park, that. A drink of water shouldn't scare him, but... well, it isn't really that he's scared.

Sam nods, and heads off to tend to that errand – he's back before Gene can even start to miss him, cup in hand. Sam watches as Gene drinks the water down, more slowly than he had before, wanting to savour it. Gene, of course, is watching Sam from over the cup's rim – his expression, gone haggard: he's tired, and he's worried, and it's just the two of them sat in that little hospital room, so he doesn't mind it at all that his emotions are starting to show. 'Sorry, y'know, for waking you – looks like you're in dire need of your beauty sleep and all.'

'I'm sorry I got you shot.'

Gene growls. 'Bloody hell, don't you start on that – I pissed Pearson off, you're the one who was trying to be reasonable, do things right. I can't even believe I'm saying this! This isn't your fault!'

'Be careful! Don't want to start coughing again, do you?' But, for all he's sounding concerned, Sam cracks the faintest of grins – not that it reaches his eyes. 'I'm still sorry. You shouldn't have to be here. You shouldn't...'

'Chin up, _acting_ DCI Tyler – how're things?'

Sam rubs at his cheek with one hand, shrugging. 'You have too many flasks, but you knew that already. Oh, and the inside of your desk is an absolute pigsty – how do you even find anything in there?'

'Got a method to me madness, Sammy-boy.'

'Don't we all. I haven't reorganised anything, but I'm tempted.'

'Best not, or I'm breaking your face off.'

'That a promise, or a t... whatever. I don't want to risk your ire.'

'I'm on the mend, don't have to pad things for me. Just, did you...?'

Sam takes a deep breath. It seems that, with that one small gesture, it's obvious he's been waiting for this moment – the way Gene's needed to ask without knowing _how_ to ask, and now it's going to happen. 'We nailed him – I wanted to rip his throat out for what he did to you.'

Gene takes a deep breath, feels it tickle down his throat, then lets it out just as slowly. The mending bullet hole twinges, but even that only serves to remind him that he's still alive. 'That felt good – say it again, would you?'

Sam's smirking now, but his eyes are sad. 'We nailed Pearson – all that surveillance, every bit of information we'd gathered against him, months and months spent trying to pin the bastard down... All we had to do was wait for him to try and murder a police officer.' Sam's voice cracks, and he rubs a hand across his eyes. 'Sorry, I'm just... tired.' He's bent by his exhaustion, Gene sees it in the way he holds himself, how deep and dark his eyes have gone.

Gene nods, and the words that follow feel awkward... if, also, heartfelt. 'I'd have done the same if he'd done it to you.'

It's a bit of light in the gloom, a real reaction, and Sam's mouth quirks at the corner. 'Thanks. Ray's...'

'Ray?'

'He's being an arse, but... well, I suppose it could be worse. Chris hasn't set anything on fire, and I think I'd lose it completely if Annie wasn't there helping me out. She always knows what to do, always says the right thing...'

Gene snorts in amusement. 'Love how this turned into the Praise Annie Cartwright hour – though, honestly, you think any of 'em hold you responsible for all this?'

Sam shrugs, sinking backwards. 'Ray resents that I'm his DCI, even if it's just temporary. Hey, better me than someone else like Morgan, right?' He sighs, and it makes him seem so small – it's really starting to show, just how tired he is. Gene knows it, _sees_ it, is starting to feel his body pulling him back down. 

Sam continues, uncertain. 'I'm the one who insisted on the surveillance. If I hadn't stopped you from going at Pearson sooner...'

Gene holds a hand out, stabs a finger at Sam. 'We'd have lost him on a technicality – you know it, I know it, that's just how bastards like him work. He was just another Warren in the making, and you were doing your best to get him off the streets. We needed to... to go at it _right_ , be patient, thorough, make sure...' He shrugs, sighs, slumps back into the propped up pillows. 'I was at wits' end – you were doing it right. We wouldn't have a case now if I hadn't been a bastard meself, tried...'

'Guv?'

'Just – tired. Shouldn't have tried rocking the boat.'

'You and me both.'

'Common sense is a rarity. Got a pair of bad men off the streets though, didn't we?'

'Yeah.' Sam's smile is faint. 'We did.' They did, and Gene could have been another casualty. But he _survived_. Neither of them need to say that – the proof is sitting there, right in the flesh.

'Don't be so down on yourself,' Gene snaps. 'I'm the one stuck in hospital, I'm the one who should be sad. You ever tasted the food they serve you here?'

Sam's smile brightens, just a fraction. He sits up, still looks like he's ready to shut his eyes and go back to sleep. 'No, well – yes, maybe? Not recently. I...' He shakes his head, rubs both his hands across his face. 'I'm making no sense right now, am I?'

'Hardly ever do.' But Gene smiles as he says it, because they both know it's true.

They sit in silence. Gene's sure they're both just appreciating the fact that he's alive, and Sam's looking at him so intently... well, it can only be said that he's yearning for something, something right in arm's reach. Gene sighs, but the emotion cracks his heart open – it's Sam, after all, and he's worked at getting in through the breaks in Gene's defences from the very start. 'Get over here, you sap.'

Sam's up in a flash, smiling bright as the sun. He sits down, careful as anything, right at the edge of the bed. He makes certain none of the wires get in the way as he wraps one arm around Gene, pressing a kiss to Gene's cheek. The moments tumble one into another, and then Gene's kissing Sam on the lips. It's that yearning from before, but Gene's given into it too. He's kissing Sam like he never thought he'd be able to kiss him again, and they're both breathless when Gene breaks it off.

'So.' He closes his eyes, settles his cheek down to rest against Sam's shoulder. Sam's warm, and it's a quiet comfort, breathing in the scent of his girly shampoo. 'Y'think they'll be letting me out of here any time soon?'

Sam huffs as he chuckles, rubbing at the small of Gene's back. 'I'm sure you'll be home in time for Christmas, if that's what you mean.'

'Ha, ha...' Oh. He could sit like this forever, or sleep a month – or perhaps two. 'Think it's bedtime, Sam. You suppose you'll still be here when I wake back up?'

'What, in the room?' Sam's voice is quiet, or maybe Gene's already slipping under. 'Don't think we'd ever hear the end of it if they caught us in bed together...'

'Hush up. You know what I mean.'

Sam gets his other arm around Gene, hugs him – not tightly, but his presence is solid, and obvious, his heart beating and all of it for Gene. What a pair of saps they are, and both of them such obvious fools.

'I'll still be here, don't worry – even if I have to call in sick. Phyllis'd just love that.'

Gene huffs softly. Sam's helping him settle back down, sorting the pillows. Sam, Sam, _Sam_ – he's everywhere, he's never going to leave. 'Who'll be left to run things then? Cartwright? You were just praisin' her and all...'

Gene thinks about it for a moment, but it's Sam who laughs first. 'Well, would you rather it be Chris and Ray?'

Gene thinks about it a moment more, and leaves Sam hanging as he promptly goes back to sleep.


End file.
